


The Entertainment's Here!

by Control_Room



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Addiction, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Joey centric, Needles, Struggling, non traditional drugs, numerica, syringes, the entertainment's here, understanding when one needs help, unnamed drug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:47:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28058652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Control_Room/pseuds/Control_Room
Summary: His hands itch with a need, and his head hurts to think of going another second without sating it.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 6





	The Entertainment's Here!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [phantomthief_fee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomthief_fee/gifts).



Joey woke up upside down. 

On the floor. 

Well, his head was, at least.

The rest of his body was on the couch.

Why the hell was he on the couch?

Righting himself, he could feel all the liquid in his body sloshing around, including his jello like brain. His hand brushed a needle. 

That would make sense. His legs firmly (more or less) on the floor now, he looked at the short little coffee table that reminded him often of a dachshund, and was unsurprised to see it littered with those syringes. 

Maybe he should see if one had any left.

It could help him get through Monday.

With a twisted, grimacing smile, he leaned back. It would make it better.

His arm relaxed with the thought of a poke, of a little pick me up, a bit of a boost. 

Wrenching his eyes from the table, he went to the record player, and put on a quiet vinyl so he could clean up his mess, picking up the garbage can just in time to vomit in it. 

The day after a binge always was the worst. 

His hands shook as he swept everything into the trash, desperately thinking of a way to dispose of it all without being noticed. 

The overwhelming need for a hit always wiped out all of his logic, driving him to forget that he would have to deal with it all in the morning. 

Unless he would have some more.

Joey mixed a bitter painkiller into his tea, covering the awful taste with masses of honey. 

Though it smelled nice; tasted good, he could hardly register it. 

What was he doing with himself? 

Thoughts gripped his ankles and dragged him down to the floor once more, gagging on his own air. 

Joey knew he had to stop. 

He knew he had to.

But everyone knew he was too stubborn to stop when he had to. 

They just did not know how far that went. 

Joey shakily went to the bathroom, wetting his hands and going over his face. Bloodshot eyes. Heavy brow, rough breathing. He looked drunk, he looked like a wreck. 

There was something that could help with that.

Joey’s hand went to the drawer before he even realized, his right hand grasping a syringe from behind the false back.

Joey found that he was on the couch again, and there was beauty in his hands, freedom and relaxation. His entire body both eased and tensed. Johan eventually registered what was happening, and his sleeve was already rolled up. 

Entertainment or reality?

He closed his eyes, the needle over his elbow. 

Joey turned off his brain. 

“Henry Stein, how can I help you?” crackled through the receiver. “... Hello?”

“You can,” Joey whispered, sinking down against the wall. “Help….”

“Joey? Where are you?”

“At home.”

“What’s wrong?” Joey could hear the worry in his voice. “Nevermind, tell me when I get there.”

“Thank you,” Joey whispered, and waited to be saved, breaking the syringe.


End file.
